Can Adults Learn Cello?

From personal experience I can answer the question of this blog post with a resounding yes!

I started learning the cello from scratch at age 25. I couldn’t read music and my ear was completely untrained.

I believe anyone can learn to play the cello well at any age.

Once we dive into the murkier waters of the adult learner mindset, however, we find an abundance of interesting issues that most adult learners will have to confront if they are serious about learning a complex new skill such as playing the cello.

In this blog post I’m going to cover the common pitfalls a serious adult learner is going to encounter on his/her journey towards cello mastery.

Keep in mind that the point of this post is that it is not too late to learn the cello.

AT ANY AGE!

However, I write this post to help others be aware of and watch out for these pitfalls that at different points in my journey held me back and hindered my progress.

The advantages to being an adult learner:

But first, let’s start with some good news.

As adult learners, we have a few edges over children -

1) WE ARE OUR OWN SOURCE OF MOTIVATION

When we sit down to practice we know precisely why we are doing it and for whom. This means no potential scarring from being told by an authority figure to do something we don’t want to.

2) WE HAVE BETTER ATTENTION SPANS

We are more willing to “eat our vegetables” and spend time on the less exciting aspects of a new craft because we understand that in doing so we are forming a solid foundation upon which we will be able to build the framework of our future excellence.

2) ABILITY TO HARNESS THE GIFT/CURSE OF PERFECTIONISM TO OUR ADVANTAGE

(I call it a curse because it also is one of the pitfalls I will mention later on).

We adults are able to take responsibility for our efforts more than children, and this means holding ourselves to higher standards, being able to admit to ourselves when the results of our efforts aren’t at that standard, and with luck having the patience and determination to problem solve while maintaining these standards and not simply throwing in the towel if the problem isn’t solved quickly.

So, great. We focus better than kids.

Nonetheless, there is a reason for the common misconception that in order to be able to really play the cello, one must start as a kid (preferably by the age of 5 or 6).

So here is, in no particular order, my list of the 4 greatest pitfalls that adult learners of the cello must deal with on their quest for cello greatness.

TOP FOUR PITFALLS FOR ADULT LEARNERS OF THE CELLO:

1. Physical tension

Physical tension is the great destroyer of musicality and artistic intent.

It’s unfortunate that we adults usually equate physical effort with tense muscles.

It’s so seemingly contradictory: your teacher is telling you to relax while also reminding you to play in rhythm, to play in tune, to manipulate the bow musically, and to draw a bigger sound. How the hell do you relax while focusing on all that?

What makes it even harder to accomplish is that often we don’t even realize how tense we are because we are so absorbed in trying to accomplish something.

I remember one of my early teachers stopping me in the middle of an etude and pointing at my left foot in its sandal. My toes were clenched under my big toe and all of the top knuckles were glowing white.

I would never have even realized how much tension I was holding in a completely unrelated body part.

I also would never have realized how much tension was in my hands and arms until I learned specific exercises and methods of recalibrating my senses so I could eventually unlearn my habits and learn what a relaxed hand felt like.

Once you know the feeling of supple strength needed for playing cello well, it becomes easier to feel tension whenever it starts to creep into your physiology while playing and to focus on removing it (even in the middle of playing).

One exercise that I found useful early on in my cello playing was to find a particularly difficult passage I was working on and to try playing through it under tempo. Once I had made an attempt I would take my left off the cello and make a strong fist and hold it for a few seconds.

Then, after releasing my hand I would wiggle my fingers in the aftermath of all that exertion.

As a result I could teach myself what it felt like to move my fingers with a left hand now relaxed.

Then I would try the passage again trying to hold onto that physical sensation.

Another insight that helped me early on was realizing how connected my two hands are.

I realized that often my left hand tension was a result of my bow hand not knowing what the hell it was doing.

Usually it was a complicated bowing pattern or a certain set of string crossings that felt awkward for my bow hand. But if I worked on the passage with only my right hand until I felt that it could play the passage comfortably, by the time I reintroduced my left hand I noticed how much more relaxed and comfortable it felt simply because the right hand wasn’t throwing it off.

For those of us (including myself) who have found physical tension to be leading us towards either injury or a plateau in progress, I highly recommend studying the Alexander Technique.

I took private lessons in Alexander Technique consistently for a couple of years and the results were remarkable.

By focusing on how I use my body in everyday activities such as picking up a book or sitting in a chair, I was able to completely overhaul my faulty internal concepts about posture and the creation of effortless strength.

Sometimes I would play the cello during lessons to address points of tension I was feeling, but often I found that taking the cello completely out of the equation allowed me to focus on inhibiting points of tension much more effectively. Then, while playing cello I could analyze my body much more accurately.

2. Perfectionism

Perfectionism for us adult learners is a double edged sword.

Wielded correctly, it allows us to compromise less, maintaining our standards while we progress.

For example, in an effort to learn an entire movement of a Bach suite by a certain deadline, we would be less likely to play sections of the piece out of tune even though our main focus might simply be getting through a long, unrelenting string of notes and musical phrasing.

Perfectionism used well turns us into incredible short order cooks able to prepare and process notes in advance, sauté the notes we’re currently playing, keep one eye on the intonation of the note we just played, and keep the other eye on the harmonic underpinnings or overarching shape of what we’re playing all at the same time. Perfectionism achieves this because it forces us to master what we practice to a level after which we can relegate it to our subconscious and focus on something else at the same time.

The negative edge of the perfectionism is probably rooted in the neurosis of already seeing oneself as a successful, exceptional adult.

In our work and at home we consider ourselves experts of who we are and what we do.

Suddenly with playing cello we are back at the starting line, and although we understand that learning to play the cello takes time and effort, we cannot help evaluating every single effort we make and ridiculing how substandard each one is.

We have minds furnished with memories of great concerts we’ve seen, literature we’ve read, and personal memories, all of which will help us construct meaningful performances that will connect us to our audience sonically by celebrating the depth and breadth of the human condition we all share.

And yet here we are and we can’t even play in tune in first position.

Perfectionism left unchecked will stall the progress and eventually discourage those adult learners (you know who you are) who describe themselves as overachievers, or perfectionists, or a little bit OCD.

My advice is to cultivate a different approach to learning the cello. I like to think of scientists.

For them, every result is helpful during experimentation because if something doesn’t work, then they know for a fact that that specific approach doesn’t achieve the desired outcome.

I would even suggest we replace the verb “to practice” with “to experiment” (maybe not aloud to friends and family, but internally for sure).

When we think of experimentation, we thinking of new solutions, innovative ideas/methods, and objective outcomes that aren’t personalized - “That didn’t create the desired result” instead of “I can’t do it.”

I admit I’m writing this as much to myself right now as I am writing it for you.

Personally, my tendency is to create practice habits that reinforce and solidify what I can do.

This means often I fail to leave enough room for experimentation with the aspects of playing that still escape me.

Maybe we shouldn’t be perfectionists but rather be perfect scientists, testing the limits of our physical capabilities and our artistic imaginations.

3. Ego

The most personal pitfall is our own egos. For those of us who are serious about learning the cello as an adult, I have a narrative I’d like to share:
In the beginning, our egos aren’t a problem at all.

We are beginners and we aren’t crazy enough to miss enjoying the humor of being an adult and making sounds that belong to a 5 year old.

In fact, we have a great attitude, and are able to give out props to anyone and everyone who is farther along the path than we are. Wow, we think, good for them.

And we actually mean it.

Then it happens.

We reach a level of skill and ability where we actually start to take pride in how we sound and how far we’ve come.

Our egos, lurking in the shadows, suddenly appear in the room and congratulate us on our achievement.

As we continue to improve, our personal identity starts to change.

Our ego is telling us more and more that we are actually cellists now, and suddenly we’re not quite as thrilled to see a nine year old on youtube who is flawlessly playing a piece we’re not even advanced enough to start learning.

Suddenly envy and jealousy and self-talk about having not started earlier enter the room as well.

It’s only natural (for me at least) to want to be amazing and exceptional in what we value and enjoy doing.

And for us adults, the trick is cultivating a pure admiration for those who can already do what we cannot yet do, and learning from them as much as possible.

Jealousy will not improve intonation or musicality.

Then, I would combine this admiration with a mantra telling yourself that anything is possible, and that it doesn’t matter how much you struggle while learning, because the more you struggle in your efforts to achieve something, the more you will value accomplishing it.

I’d rather have to train for 6 months to run a 5 minute mile than to run it on my first try.

If I did it on my first try, why would I care? Woohoo, a 5 minute mile doesn’t change my life in any way, but achieving it after months of training suddenly transforms it into something I’m putting in the highlight reel of my life’s story.

4. Mental limitations

Lastly, and with the most overall impact, is the pitfall of mental limitation.

The question prompting this blog was intentionally vague, because I wanted to ask you, what does learning the cello mean to you?

Is it being able to play through chamber music pieces with friends?

To join the local community orchestra and really contribute to the sound of the group?

To learn your favorite pop melodies? To learn all six Bach suites?

It probably doesn’t mean to be a professional cellist and to perform in front of paying audiences.

And that’s probably because you assume that level of achievement is impossible.

And I’m here to tell you if that is how you are thinking, then you will be right and you will never reach that calibre (largely because you are already limiting yourself).

In an effort to be “realistic,” we set limits on what we expect from ourselves.

On the one hand, it’s nice because we don’t have to worry; in a way, the biggest negotiations are concluded before we even begin.

We already know what’s possible because we’ve set the limit ourselves.

If this scenario sounds distasteful to you, then I invite you to call bullshit like I did.

I’m not content with how I currently play the cello, but I’m also nowhere near the end of my journey because I don’t believe that any real limits to my potential exist.

It’s daunting to believe in yourself, because you feel extra vulnerable if at the end of the day you don’t end up where you wanted to be.

But without mental limitations you also have the freedom to grow, to develop, and to feel more in control of your destiny.